


Secrets in Shadow

by Captain_Savvy



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassins, Awkward Cullen, Battle, F/M, Flirting, From the Beyond, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how to tag uuugh, Modern Girl in Thedas, Poison, Shoulder Mage, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Savvy/pseuds/Captain_Savvy
Summary: Tamsyn takes a late-night walk with Cullen, but things don't go as expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/gifts).
  * Inspired by [From the Beyond](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363274) by [Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria). 



Tamsyn let out a soft breath of relief as she closed the door to Josephine’s office. She could still hear voices on the other side; no doubt the ambassador was smoothing over any possible offense she had caused by leaving. It had been a rather sudden departure, after all. As she made her way out into the main hall she felt a bit guilty for leaving the matter for Josie to deal with by herself- but then, if she’d stayed, things could have ended much worse. The last thing she needed was for (more) rumors to circulate that she was a fraud.  
  
“Already done with the Lady Ambassador’s tea? That must be a new record, considering how much she loves polite chit-chat.”   
  
Cullen’s voice reached her ears, accompanied by the familiar clinking of armor. She turned and saw that he was on his way from the Undercroft. One hand clutched a stack of parchments and the other rested upon the pommel of his sword. Soft torchlight shone on silver plate and golden hair, enough to make anyone melt.  
  
“I gave my apologies and left early,” she admitted with a sheepish smile, “Things were starting to get… awkward.”   
  
“Where nobles are concerned, when do they not?” His mouth formed a thin line, stretching the scar over his lip. Tamsyn tried not to stare.   
  
“Lady Kendells was about to demand I tell her fortune on the spot. I guess she was expecting me to read the future in the tea.”   
  
“A quick escape was a wise choice.”  
  
 “Agreed,” she sighed and shook her head slightly, “And I could really use some fresh air after being shut in a room with her unholy perfume. I think she wore an entire bottle, or three.”  
  
“I’d be glad for you to accompany me,” Cullen offered with a gesture toward the large doors. A faint pink shade crept over his face suddenly, “I mean, for a walk on the battlements. For some fresh air? Unless you’d rather go to bed? Oh Maker’s breath, that sounded- I didn’t mean- I meant that if you wish to turn in, then I shall bid you goodnight and be on my way. Perhaps I should anyway- I suppose you have far better things to do than listen to me -”   
  
His hand went to the back of his neck and his gaze wandered, the pink on his cheeks now a rosy red. Tamsyn was sure she was blushing as well at this display, but she couldn’t deny that he was adorable when he began to stumble over his words.   
  
“A walk sounds lovely,” she interrupted him, saving him from himself at last.   
  
“Good,” He straightened the stack of parchment in his hands with a small exhale, “We should go then, before the Arlessa decides to abandon Josephine and come looking for you.”   
  
“Oh Maker, yes.”   
  
Tamsyn took to her heel alongside the Commander. She had no desire to deal with the noblewoman again. Cullen’s company was far more preferable, anyway. They cut through Solas’ chamber (which was currently empty, as the elf was out in the field with Maxwell) and made their way outside. Night had begun to arrive earlier and earlier, and the darkness brought with it a stark iciness to the air. Luckily Tamsyn had put on her cloak before leaving Josephine‘s office; a deep blue, fur-lined garment that had been a last-minute addition to her new wardrobe. She pulled the warm fabric more closely about herself and took a deep breath, letting the cold wash away the tension and anxiety of the tea-meeting with the Lady Kendells. It had been an affair arranged entirely by their ambassador for political purposes. Like Cullen, she was content to leave that sort of nonsense to Josephine.  
  
The pair slowly walked forward, taking their time and going at a leisurely pace. Their footfalls were muffled by the light powdering of snow on the ancient stone. Tamsyn was aware of the silence between them, but she was content just to walk at his side.   
  
“I fear you won’t be able to avoid the nobles clamoring for the use of your skills forever,” Cullen suddenly sighed, “For your safety we must find a reasonable way to deal with them.”   
  
“We can’t just punch them until they stop asking, can we?” Tamsyn asked with an edge of snark to her voice, “Although I admit I like the idea.”  
  
She was rewarded with a hearty chuckle from her companion; the sound warmed her heart and chased away the bitterness of the cold. Oh, how she loved to hear that man laugh.  
  
“Yes, true. Perhaps Leliana could use her network to find out something about this Lady Kendells, and the others. Enough for you to give some vague notion of the future, or at least show that you know things about them.” He slowed as they approached the door of his office, “It is too bad we can’t read their minds.”   
  
Tamsyn made a noncommittal noise in response. The thought struck her that Cole could, in fact, read minds. Then again, using the spirit to hoodwink others may go against his very purpose. That'd be the last thing she’d want to do. She sighed and pushed those thoughts away as she glanced up to the tower, the top of which was hidden in shadow. Their short walk had come to an end- or so she thought.  
  
“Just let me put these on my desk,” Cullen said as he pushed opened the door and stood back to let her in, “And we can go on … if you would like to?”  
  
“Of course,” she answered far too eagerly, then bit her bottom lip as she slipped past him into the warmth of the office, “If you have time, at least?”  
  
“I will make time.”   
  
The blond man crossed the room and set the papers down, adjusting them into an orderly stack, eyes scanning the top sheet for a few moments before he finally abandoned the desk. When he turned toward her he noticed Tamsyn’s curious expression.  
  
“Weapons and armor schematics for review,” he explained, “We will need to outfit our soldiers with the best possible for the coming battles, and these new designs the Inquisitor came across may be of great help.”   
  
“Anything from Dagna?”  
  
“Oh, you mean besides the cheerful offer to try her best not to cause an explosion?” Cullen smirked and shook his head, “Yes, she did include some notes. I shall read over them in the morning. It can all wait.”  
  
“Actually taking a break? I’m proud of you.” She grinned and crossed her arms. His response was a glare that was rather playful.  
  
“Despite what everyone thinks, I am not _always_ working.”   
  
“Of course not. You sleep sometimes.”   
  
“Hmph.” He glanced back at the papers before moving toward the rightmost door, “Though, I did mean to tell you- I can have Harrit craft new armor for you.”  
  
“Oh, what I have is good enough,” she said, “And I hope I won’t be needing it. Save the resources for the soldiers.”   
  
“The offer stands. New armor, to go with your other new things. As pretty as the fancy clothes are, armor is far more useful. I‘d rather have you safe than fashionable- and I will not be outdone by Josephine and Leliana.”   
  
It was the first he had actually commented on her new wardrobe, and Tamsyn smiled briefly as they left the office and once again braved the cold mountain breeze. Along the battlements between the tower and the tavern there was only a little torchlight to be seen near the gatehouse. She didn’t mind. Color rose up her neck as she pondered his offer, sped on by the quickening of her heart, and she welcomed the shadows. Dorian’s words about being brave came to her mind, and she cleared her throat.  
  
“Um… speaking of which,” she said, thinking back to that morning in the War Room, “I know you don’t like your new clothing from Val Royeaux, but it looks damn dashing on you.”   
  
_Damn dashing?_ She could have kicked herself off the parapets. The young woman turned her face out toward the mountains miserably.    
   
“Oh… thank you,” Cullen said softly, “I’ve been thinking the same of you. This one especially. It suits you.”   
  
“Really? I mean… thank you,” she responded with a glance down to the rose-colored suit, finding it difficult to keep her voice measured, “I think it’s one of my favorites. It feels strange to dress up just to walk around Skyhold, but I thought I should try to make a good impression at Josephine’s tea.”   
  
“I am sure you made an excellent impression,” his voice had grown even softer, “You look lovely.”  
  
Tamsyn felt dizzy. Had he just told her she looked lovely? Was she imagining things? Her heart hammered in her chest and she was hit with the urge to run away and hide. His words both elated her and made her doubt herself. He was just being a gentleman, of course. Friendly. Polite. But these did not seem like Cullen’s normal gentlemanly compliments, and then there was the velvet softness of his words. Maybe Dorian had been right after all.    
  
 _Be brave, dammit._  
  
“I’m glad you think so,” she said, doing her best to sound confident. Cullen smiled a bit shyly and nodded as he slowly came to a halt beside her. They stood now between the tower and the tavern, away from the eyes of the patrols, gazing out at the Frostbacks. Moonlight shone on the mountains’ snowy peaks and stars glittered in the inky sky beyond. Magnificent. Up here, above the hustle and bustle of the keep and caressed by the night, it almost felt like another world entirely. Tamsyn sighed, closing her eyes and feeling the sharp breeze sweep around them. It was cold, but nothing could detract from the warmth she felt simply from standing near Cullen. Being with him usually made her happy, even when they were simply discussing work. Or not talking at all.  
  
 _Well then, why don’t you tell him that?_  
  
She could almost hear Dorian hissing into her ear like a guardian angel (or devil?) on her shoulder. That mage wouldn’t even let her imagination be. Fine then. Letting out a small, sharp breath she opened her eyes as she turned to face the Commander. To her shock he had turned at the same moment, and they bumped right into each other.   
  
“Oof-”   
  
“I’m sorry-”   
  
His hands shot out and gripped her waist to steady her. Tamsyn grabbed him on instinct, fingers digging into the fur of his mantle. For a moment they stood there awkwardly, holding onto each other and staring. Their bodies were so close that they touched. Were his fingers trembling against her because of their nearness, or from another cause? She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, trying to recall what she had been about to say. Cullen’s lips parted as though he meant to speak; but then his golden gaze darted past her, and his eyes widened in alarm.   
  
“Get back!”   
  
With one hand he hauled her behind him; the other grabbed his sword’s haft. Steel scraped steel as the blade was unsheathed. When Tamsyn regained her footing and looked up she saw Cullen clashing with a figure dressed in black. Her heart leapt into her throat. For a moment she could only watch as he tried to bring down the attacker, his blade matched against twin daggers. He fought with a ferocity like fire but the figure spun and danced with a lightning quickness.  
  
 _An assassin._  
  
 A second figure appeared out of the shadows then. This one skirted the wall and came straight for Tamsyn. Her hand went to her hip on instinct but grasped only air; she had not worn her sword. A curse fell from her lips as she jumped back just in time to dodge a blade. Her mind raced; she should run, she was unarmed, but she couldn’t abandon Cullen to two attackers. Suddenly she recalled the deadly accessories tucked into her chestnut tresses. Swiftly she yanked one of the hairpins free. A few errant locks of hair tumbled over her shoulders in wild waves as she once again ducked out of her attacker’s way. Gloved fingers trembled as she fumbled with the pin.  
  
 _Twist and pull. Twist and pull._  
  
The stiletto dagger was revealed. Tamsyn dodged again; her heart thumped against her rib cage, her mind raced as she turned to face the attacker. A blade flew toward her heart. She leaned out of the way just in time and whipped her own across the assassin’s face. With an angry hiss he fell back. Blood dripped onto the stones beneath his feet- but then he came forward twice as fast. Emboldened, Tamsyn ran to meet him. She spun to the side and brought her elbow to the back of his skull with a satisfying crack. In the next movement she jammed the stiletto into his back and shoved as hard as she could- but not before a dagger slashed across her right side.  
  
The assassin stumbled and fell. Cullen flew past in a flash of red and fur and forcefully knelt upon the man’s back, pinning him to the stone. A glance told her that the other attacker had been slain. Several of the battlement patrols arrived with swords drawn, then, bearing torches and speaking in worried voices as they crowded around. Leliana was among them. As her heartbeat returned to normal, Tamsyn noticed the pain burning where the assassin’s blade had caught her. She clamped a hand over the wound and looked down. Strangely enough, her first thought was that her brand-new jacket was now cut open and stained with blood. A perfectly good outfit, ruined in one night. It figured.  
  
“Tamsyn, are you alright? Maker‘s breath, I cannot believe assassins got into Skyhold. This is unacceptable.”   
  
Cullen was standing in front of her. When had he gotten up? She nodded as she gazed up at his face. Red was splattered on his skin and now-unkempt hair. Despite the tremors of fear still running through her, she was more concerned that he might have been hurt on her behalf.  
  
“Just a flesh wound,” she said with a lame, nervous smile, “You? You‘ve got blood all over you.”  
  
“It’s not mine. I’m fine.” His brow creased with worry, his lips curled in an unhappy frown as his eyes focused on where her hand pressed against her side, “You should see a healer right away. Just a moment and I‘ll walk you there myself.”  
  
He turned to give orders to his men, then. “Take him into custody for questioning- watch him closely! Raise the alarm at once. We must put everyone on high alert-”   
  
“That would be unwise, Commander.”  
  
“Are you joking?” Cullen wheeled on the Nightingale, “There could be more assassins sneaking around Skyhold as we speak!”   
  
“And if we raise the alarm and cause hysteria throughout the keep, you think that will help?”   
  
“Pretending nothing happened certainly won’t!”   
  
“They would go into hiding and be that much more difficult to locate.” Leliana’s face was hidden by her hood but her voice was deadly serious, “My people will scour every inch of Skyhold. If there are others, we will find them, I swear it. And this one, I will question personally.”   
  


She yanked the black scarf away from the assassin’s face. He was an elf, rather unassuming in appearance save for the new, angry-looking cut running across his brow and one eye. His head hung in defeat.

 

“I will have tripled patrols and guards posted at every door, _quietly_ if you insist,” Cullen growled, “Just make sure you do find out who is responsible for this. I want their head.” 

 

"You are not the only one."

  
With every word that passed between the Commander and the Spymaster, it seemed to Tamsyn that they became more difficult to understand. The flickering torchlight dazzled her eyes. She blinked rapidly, but it only made things worse. Now that her adrenaline had faded she felt as though she could fall down where she stood... her arms felt so heavy, her legs so weak. Why was everything moving? Despite the cold wind still sweeping about them, she could feel sweat beading on the back of her neck; it was as if fire crept through her veins to the rest of her body. Realization fell slowly, like snow over the fog enshrouding her mind. When it hit, horror welled up inside her.  
  
 _Poison!_  
  
She couldn't force herself to react. Cullen turned to her. He said something, asked a question, but his voice was muffled by the growing throbbing in her ears. Tamsyn tried to speak, but her tongue felt swollen and stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her stomach twisted in sudden, painful knots, and she grimaced. When she tried to take a step forward she toppled; she was being pulled down, dragged into murky darkness. The world spun but impact with the ground never came. What happened? She could feel the Commander’s arms lifting her, could see his face near hers, amber eyes wide with fear. Fear for her? Thinking was becoming increasingly difficult, moving was impossible, but wild panic still filled her heart. She was going to die. Some half-baked assassin with a poisoned blade was going to do her in.  
  
 _Not like this. Not yet…._  
  


Then everything was gone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this... woops!

“Go on ahead and alert the healers in the infirmary that we’re coming. Fetch the apothecary and tell her we’ve a case of poisoning and to meet us there at once. I want guards at every door, I want the entire keep and the outlying area searched from top to bottom. Go! Move!”

Orders poured forth from Cullen’s mouth automatically and sent his troops scattering. Years of training pushed him into action despite the gut-wrenching fear that now filled his heart. He left the assassin to Leliana, legs carrying him swiftly through the keep. His main worry was now cradled carefully in his arms. He could feel Tamsyn’s hair tickling his neck where her head rested against him and smell the scent of lavender soap. Her body shuddered in his grasp and a small groan of pain escaped her lips. The sound made his insides wither.

“Hold on Tamsyn,” he murmured as he hurried for the stairs near the tavern, “You’re going to be alright.”

His mind raced almost as quickly as his heart, and twice as fast as his feet. How had this happened? How had they managed to fail her again- this time where she should have been safest? What if this failure was fatal? The very idea made his throat tighten. To lose her now… he couldn’t bear to think of it. His grip on her strengthened as though he might keep her in the living world by sheer force.

_Maker, no._

When he reached the recently-finished infirmary Cullen found the main door open and waiting, a guard on either side. The medicinal smell of herbs and medicines assailed his senses as he stepped through. Without speaking, a young woman beckoned for him to follow; she ushered him past the rows of sleeping patients and into one of the private rooms. Cullen went where directed. Inside the candle-lit quarters there was a simple bed, a wash basin and a table already laid out with tools and medicines. The Commander gently let Tamsyn down upon the straw mattress. He was careful not to jostle her, yet he hoped she would wake if only for a moment- but there was no response. For a few heartbeats he simply stood there, unwilling (or unable) to leave her side. He was only half aware of the two women crowded in behind him as he gazed at her face.

“If you please, Commander.”

He glanced up. Elan Ve’mal, the Inquisition's head apothecary, stood there. A satchel full of bottles and herbs rested over one of the elven woman's shoulders. When Cullen did not understand right away, she gestured toward the door.

“Oh. Of course.”

They would need to remove Tamsyn's clothing to tend to her wound. To remain would be indecent. Cullen slipped outside of the room and swallowed the lump in his throat as the door closed behind him. He would have to be patient. But how could he? His fingers gripped the pommel of his sword tightly, and the other hand rubbed furiously at the back of his neck. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then began pacing back and forth. His nervous footsteps and the movements of his armor seemed loud to his own ears. In the dim light of the common area he could see others who were ill and wounded tossing and turning in their beds. Had he woken them? He cringed at his own thoughtlessness. Chantry sisters and mage-healers went to those who awoke to offer medicine and soft words of comfort. If only their words could bring him assurance. A myriad of emotions consumed him, and guilt was not the least. He had told her she was safe here. He had believed it. Where had he gone wrong?

Beyond the door he could hear the mage and the apothecary consulting one another in hushed tones. No matter how he strained, he could understand none of their words. Occasionally Tamsyn’s voice would reach him in a pain-filled moan, and he would have to fight the compulsion to burst through the door and rush to her side. How serious was the wound? Deeper than she had let on? Was it indeed poisoned? The Commander sighed miserably and closed his eyes, dragging one hand through his hair. He hated feeling so lost and helpless, so useless. What good was he doing, standing here and fretting? Common sense told him to leave her in more capable hands and go take control of the situation with his soldiers… but he couldn’t. Maker, he couldn’t leave her.

When the door opened he whirled so quickly he nearly fell on top of the elf standing there. Elan blinked at him in mild surprise but then cleared her throat.

“It seems to be poison, as you thought,” she said quietly, “A variation of Deathroot Extract. Luckily I already had the antidote on hand, and I managed to have her swallow it.”

“Is she awake?”

“No,” she said, as she wiped her hands with a bloodied cloth, “At least, not fully. She has taken fever.”

“Will she survive?”

His voice was soft but weighed down with equal dread and hope. There was no point in beating around the obvious question, no matter how much it pained him to ask it.

“We will see.”

Not the answer he had wanted. Elan must have seen the heavy dismay that crashed down on him because she rushed to continue, “The wound has been cleaned and treated. The antidote given. Mage-healer Alora is doing what she can with magic- but the rest will be up to Lady Tamsyn. The next few hours will be critical, and survival will depend upon her will to fight.”

Cullen nodded his understanding. “She is a strong woman. She has already survived some unimaginable things.”

“Then hold onto hope, Commander.” Elan offered a reassuring smile and bowed her head, “If she can just make it through this night, I believe she will be fine.”

"Thank you." He sighed, "And please, not a word of what happened to anyone. Our people have the matter well in hand."

_I hope._

"As you say, Commander. You have my discretion."

With that, the apothecary took her leave, quietly telling the Chantry sisters to send for her if she was needed. Cullen peered into the room nervously, dreading what he might see. The reality was not much better than the expectation; Tamsyn lay silent and still upon the bed, a blanket pulled up to her waist. She was wearing her black under-shirt, though it was now crumpled and wrinkled, and the rest of her clothes were folded neatly in a corner. Sweat glistened upon her brow, but she shivered slightly as though she were chilled. The mage-healer Alora sat at the bedside with hands splayed and emanating a pale glow. As a former templar, Cullen recognized healing magic. Could it save her? Would it be of any help at all? He could only stand and stare, waiting as though in a bad dream, until the mage finally finished her work.

Only when she had gone (with a promise to return within the hour to check her patient's progress) did Cullen enter. Perhaps someone else should have been there with Tamsyn lest tongues start wagging, but it didn't matter to him. If there was another assassin in Skyhold still out to claim her life, he wouldn't let her out of his sight for a moment. Slowly, and with anxiety gnawing at him, he approached the bed. She was asleep, but her breathing was ragged. Never had he seen her looking so pale. Her chestnut tresses were spread over the pillow beneath her in matted tangles, her lips slightly parted, her brows drawn with discomfort even in sleep. She looked so small and frail lying there, so unlike the vivacious woman he knew. The one he cared for so deeply.

Cullen removed his blood-stained gloves and gently, so gently, reached up to smooth back her hair with calloused fingers. The intimacy of the gesture unconsciously brought a flush to his face, but at the moment he hardly cared about propriety. Her skin burned to the touch. A fever, indeed. Without a second thought he reached for a clean rag from the small table, dipped it in the wash basin and wrung it out, then pressed the cool cloth against her brow. His mind drifted back unbidden to that night in Haven when he had become so ill. He had been miserable in ways he could not even describe- but she had been right there at his side whether he wanted help or not. Tamsyn had tended to him when he must have acted more akin to a wounded bear than a man, and had remained by him through that night. He recalled when he'd woken to find her sound asleep on his desk. Ever since then she had been concerned with his well being. She'd understood what he suffered, maybe better than he did himself at times. Cullen swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You did not abandon me. I will not abandon you," he promised softly, "I shan't go anywhere until you wake. By Andraste's grace, you _must_ wake."

The night deepened. With each hour that passed, the Commander remained by Tamsyn's side. He tenderly bathed her brow and worried as he listened to her strained breathing. He spoke softly to the healer, and to the soldiers who brought him reports- but mostly, he prayed. With hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees and head bowed, Cullen softly spoke the words of the Chant. He begged Andraste's blessing for Tamsyn, prayed with all his heart that she would find the strength to pull through. There was a quiet desperation in his whispered invocation that even he hadn't fully realized he felt until then. There were many things he did not understand: the world she had come from, how she had come to be in Thedas, what the Maker's purpose for her truly was- but what he understood with every ounce of his being was that he needed her to live. He could not bear to imagine forging ahead without her. It was not only that it would be a grievous blow to their organization- though that was certainly true. The Inquisition needed her knowledge. But Cullen needed her smile. He needed her laughter and encouragement. Her determination and quiet strength. He needed _her_.

The silence of the Keep drew on through the night hours. Cullen was steadfast in his protective vigil, heedless of any rumors it might cause. Dawn's first light was just beginning to nudge out the shadows of night when he noticed Tamsyn stirring. He expected that she had merely shifted once again in her sleep, but when he raised his amber eyes he was met with the welcome sight of her brown ones. They were sleepy and full of confusion and discomfort, but their gaze was clear. Color had returned to her face. He grasped her hand in his quite without thinking.

"Thank the Maker," he murmured, his voice thick with relief, "You're awake at last."

* * *

Tamsyn thought she was dreaming when she first opened her eyes. Why else would Cullen be holding her hand and staring at her like she had just given him his heart's desire? Then her tired mind remembered that she hadn't dreamed since crossing the Fade. Of course. If she were dreaming, she probably wouldn't feel like she'd been chewed up and shat out by a high dragon. She felt more terrible than during any sickness she'd ever had before- not to mention how she hurt. She sluggishly blinked a few times, trying to make sense of where she was and why she'd ended up there.

"Everything is alright," Cullen assured her, releasing her hand, "Do you remember what happened?"

She tried to recall. The last several hours were fuzzy at best. They had been walking on the battlements, being awkward as usual, and then...

"Assassins," she croaked as the memory returned, and cringed at the rawness of her voice.

"Maker's breath, you must be parched." He twisted in the seat and nearly knocked over a basket of clean bandaging as he reached for a pitcher of water and a cup from the table.

Tamsyn didn't have time to protest. The Commander slipped one arm carefully beneath her shoulders and raised her enough so that she could drink, and with the other he brought the cup to her lips. If she hadn't felt so weary she might have been embarrassed, or excited, or both, by this caring gesture. She swallowed the water gratefully; it refreshed and soothed her throat. It also served to wake her up a bit more, and she got a better look at Cullen as he eased her back onto her pillow. It was easy to tell that he hadn't rested. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his hair was an absolute mess, like he'd dragged his fingers through it countless times.

"Have you slept?" she asked, concern pinching her brow, "You look terrible."

"And there she is, the Tamsyn I know," Cullen smiled slightly, "Don't worry about my health, especially not now. It's yours we should be concerned about. How do you feel?"

"Awful. The blade was poisoned, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Deathroot extract. We feared the worst for a while..."

"Damn it, it happened again," Tamsyn closed her eyes against the hot tears that threatened her, "In Skyhold - and this time you could have gotten hurt too!"

"Tamsyn, don't-"

"Did they kill anyone else?"

"No- no one else was hurt. The assassin and Arlessa Kendells are in the dungeon-"

"The arlessa?!" Her voice was full of bitterness and fear, but she couldn't help it. "I'm so damned tired of this! Political bullshit, lies and betrayals! Putting other people in danger because of me! I'm so sorry it keeps happening-"

"Listen to me." The firmness of Cullen's voice silenced her. She kept her eyes screwed shut and pursed her lips. She didn't want to cry- not in front of him, not again - but she was so tired and miserable she didn't know if she could help it.

"Tamsyn, none of this is your fault. We are all targets- that's simply an unfortunate hazard of our rank and the war we're waging."

_Unfortunate. Ha._

"You mustn't blame yourself. If anyone should apologize, it should be me. Your safety- the safety of everyone in this fortress- is my responsibility, and I failed."

Tamsyn opened her eyes, then. He rubbed the back of his neck and dropped his gaze with a deep sigh.

"You kidding?" she asked, "You saved my life, Cullen. You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"Don't I? I almost- we almost lost you, and that would... I could never have forgiven myself."

She wasn't sure if the softness of his voice was from weariness or emotion, but the way he looked at her made her insides quake- and not from the effects of the poison. Had he really been affected that strongly by her condition?

"Well, I'm still here," she offered a tired smile, "Looks like you're stuck with me."

He smiled back, his lips curling in a way that made her heart melt and stilled the disquiet and fear that filled her. "And for that, Tamsyn, I'm very glad."

He sat so close, with such care in his eyes. There were so many things she wanted to say, to confess... but a light knock at the door drew their attention before any more words could be spoken. Mage-healer Alora peered inside.

"My lady, you're awake!" she exclaimed, "Praise Andraste!"

"Indeed," Cullen agreed, and rose slowly from the chair, "I... ah.. I should probably go."

He picked up his discarded gloves and turned to the young woman in the bed. "Tamsyn, don't worry about anything. Those responsible have been apprehended, and the Keep has been thoroughly searched. Guards will be posted outside just in case. Please rest, and recover."

"Thank you, Cullen," she said, "I mean it."

"Of course." One more warm, relieved smile, and then he left, armor clinking as he abandoned the room and then the infirmary proper. Tamsyn sighed and closed her eyes.

"I'll just look at your wound and check you over, my lady," Alora said, closing the door behind her, "You'll need some elfroot potion, and a bit of broth to get your strength up. If that's alright?"

"Sure, that's fine," she acquiesced, though she couldn't really argue if she wanted to, "How long was I out?"

"A full night. Commander Cullen never left your side, not even once."

He had been with her throughout the night? He'd remained by her side when there was a fortress to secure? No wonder he'd looked exhausted! Tamsyn felt her face flush, and she could have sworn she was taking fever again.

"He is a good man," she said, "Also, he doesn't approve of gossip, and neither do I."

"Of course, my lady." Alora smiled knowingly as she began her inspection of the wound (which had healed nicely, leaving no scar), "Not a peep out of me, you have my word. If you'll allow me an observation, though?"

"What?"

"He seems to care for you a great deal."

Tamsyn remained silent and serious as stone while the mage finished her examination and treatment. An elfroot potion. A bit of soothing magic. A bowl of hot broth, which she drank hungrily. When she was left alone again to rest she put a hand against her own cheek and gazed at the ceiling. Despite her weariness and worn nerves, despite everything she had been through, she simply couldn't help the small, quiet smile that came to her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Another fanwork based on Auriv1's From The Beyond. (Fanfic-ception!)


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